


To Begin Again

by oldenuf2nb



Series: If Wishes Were Children [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied Mpreg, M/M, Politician Harry Potter, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Wizengamot, original chatacters - children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2019-08-28 07:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldenuf2nb/pseuds/oldenuf2nb
Summary: Harry Potter is a busy man, his husband Draco Malfoy Potter is a busy man. What will it take for them to re-evaluate what’s important?





	To Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> For my darling sassy_cissa, for her birthday. Sorry this is belated, love. Book releases and all that. But here are your boys, as uniquely yours as I can make them.

Harry Potter lay in bed, propped up by two pillows at his back, reading through a file Hermione Granger-Weasley dropped by his office at the Ministry that afternoon. Still his best friend after forty years, she was also on the board at ‘Colin’s House’, the orphanage he and his husband practically adopted five years previously when their youngest, Narcissa, was a first year at Hogwarts. Hermione also ran the organization that was responsible for most of the funding for the orphanage, such as it was. The further away from the war they got, the less most people saw the need to donate. Harry was busy with his growing role in the Wizengamot and by extension wizarding government and Jamie, their first born was worried about his other dad. Draco’s life revolved around their kids; it always had. With Cissa away at school, he was listless and depressed, but it took Jamie to make Harry really see it.

Colin’s House, an orphanage that was housed in a huge building adjacent to St. Mungo’s, was originally begun by Colin Creevey's parents immediately following the war, its mission to take care of war orphans with wizarding backgrounds. Originally understaffed and underfunded, it had grown into a private boarding school and nursery mostly due to the fund raising efforts of Draco Malfoy-Potter. Once he’d seen the need, the tattered furniture and ratty clothing the children in Colin’s House were wearing, Harry’s husband was immediately both horrified and immediately engaged.

Draco became a man on a mission. Between fund raising and finishing his Potion Masters accreditation in juvenile potions, he no longer had time to be depressed. Five years later he was the lone Potion Master making juvenile potions for St. Mungo’s and Colin’s house, he was exporting potions to Hogwarts and was sitting on the board for the school. Their children were thriving, Jamie excelling in his second year working for Hermione, and Cissa, a beautiful, headstrong sixth year, was determined to be an Auror. When Draco wasn’t brewing or writing letters to donors, he spent hours a week in the nursery, rejuvenating his soul by holding a baby in his arms. He was often exhausted and Harry teased that he had to make an appointment if he wanted to see his own husband, but they were happy.

Harry finished reading the file, a well written treatise on why the government should approve a tax exempt status for philanthropic organizations. Harry was all in favor of it but some of the old guard weren’t, and Hermione always had been better at those kinds of arguments than he was. He’d pass it off to his assistant in the morning and he’d dilute it down into points Harry might be able to make when he addressed the full Wizengamot at the end of the week. Putting the file on his bedside table, he took off his glasses and folded the arms in, placing them on top of it. Glancing down at Draco, his gaze was arrested by the white blond hair that spilled shining over the grey pillowcase, his slender, pale arms tucked under the pillow as he lay on his stomach. The only time Draco hadn’t slept on his stomach was when he was carrying one of their kids and even then, he’d tried. His face was turned toward Harry, slack in sleep but still so elegant, his nose faintly pointed, high cheekbones sharp.

For Harry, it was an ongoing struggle to keep his weight under control and his muscles firm, but Draco seemed to just be naturally thin. No matter what he ate, his body remained lithe, long limbed and beautiful. His long pale neck was right there, curving from the base of his skull to the angle heading to his shoulder, and Harry had a vivid sense memory of what he smelled like right there, what he tasted like. Smiling slightly, he leaned down and placed a soft, open mouthed kiss on the spot that Harry knew drove Draco crazy. He lingered, touched the soft skin with his tongue, and Draco shifted, grunting softly in sleep.

Reaching up over his shoulder, Harry turned off his reading lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He shifted lower, pressing his body along Draco’s side, using his teeth to skim the soft skin. He hand slid down the middle of Draco’s back, sneaking under the duvet covering him to the waist.

He nipped a bit harder, and Draco groaned.

“Potter, if you’re hungry I’m sure there’s something you can snack on in the refrigerator.”

Harry grinned against his skin. “I like the taste of you better.”

“I like sleep.” Draco groaned again and rolled to his side, staring sleepily into Harry’s face. “You required…something?”

Harry slid his arm around Draco’s waist, scooting closer until their chests were just inches apart. “Just a kiss goodnight from my husband.”

Draco gave him a wry look. “Just a kiss?”

Harry tried, and failed, to look affronted. “What, do you think I’d take advantage of you?”

Draco’s grin was lazy. “As often as possible and twice on Friday. Yes, in every way you could.”

Harry grinned as he pressed his lips to Draco’s briefly. “That’s why you’re the smartest wizard of your generation.”

“That’s Granger,” Draco grumbled, but he did slip his fingers up the sides of Harry sturdy neck.

“She’s not a wizard.”

Draco’s mobile brows arched. “I’ve never been completely sure of that.”

Harry rolled his eyes and took a nip of Draco’s lower lip. “That’s not nice.”

“No one ever said I was nice.” Draco licked his full lower lip, sending a heavy, familiar heat to Harry’s groin.

He grinned, slipping his hand down under Draco’s pyjama pants to cup his bum. “I think you’re very nice.”

“You just want to fuck,” Draco said flatly. “I can’t believe you woke me up because you want to get laid.”

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be getting laid.”

Draco couldn’t seem to help the smile the pulled at the corner of his lips. “You’re such a dirty old man, Potter.” Harry leaned in to steal another kiss, and Draco smiled against his mouth.

“You like it.”

He rolled his eyes, but when Harry took the kiss deeper, Draco followed right along, allowing himself to be eased to his back, his fingers gliding into Harry’s hair as his tongue slipped into his mouth.

A bell tone sounded through their house on the quiet street in the small village. They’d picked it on purpose when the kids were little because of its rural location. It really was too much house for them now, but they hadn’t wanted to move somewhere else, somewhere that wouldn’t be home to their children. They both stiffened when the vibrating tone came again, Harry lifting his head and Draco watching his eyes.

The sound came again, louder, and Harry sat up quickly, grabbing his wand from the night stand and his t-shirt from the top of their hamper, shrugging into it. Draco was getting out of bed, too, pulling on a robe that lay over their footboard. They only set the wards when they went to bed now. For years, they’d been on any time Draco was alone in the house with the children. Most people had come around to their marriage, but there were still some out there who were never going to agree with a man being married to another man, or giving birth to his husband’s children. Even in the wizarding world, that was rare and uncommon magic and some felt it was twisting the lines of what was acceptable too far.

Harry looked back at Draco from their bedroom doorway. “Please, let me check what this is before you come down?”

Draco tied the belt on his robe, grabbed up his wand and lifted his chin. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Potter. Let’s go see what it is.”

Harry knew what it was; someone had breached their wards, had come too close to their house. It wasn’t particularly unusual; all they really were was an early warning system, after all. Harry wouldn’t let them put anything stronger around their home, no matter how much Kingsley complained and the MLE wanted more strenuous security. He wanted his kids to be able just come home if they needed to. There were some who thought he was too cavalier with his family’s safety, until he reminded them just why it was that they knew his name to begin with. He hated to pull the ‘Harry Potter’ card, but he would when he had to.

Harry had reached the top of the stairs when the doorbell rang. He glanced over his shoulder to find Draco right behind him, wand drawn. Deciding the better part of valor was to not start an argument he turned and crept down the stairs, Draco on his heels.

The doorbell didn’t ring again, and Harry approached it cautiously, looking out through the peep hole. He didn’t see anyone.

“There’s no one out there.”

“Don’t you think you ought to open the door and check for sure?”

Harry glanced back at him, then unlocked the door. When he pulled it open there was no one standing on the porch. There was, however, a bundle of what looked like rags on the welcome mat.

“Odd time of night to bring gifts.” Draco pushed around Harry’s shoulder, bending to check the bundle. Meanwhile Harry took a step around him to look around the front yard, but saw no one.

“So, we got the gift of rags?” Harry asked wryly, turning back. That was when he heard Draco, who had been carefully moving the cloth of the bundle trying to find what was inside, gasp.

“Oh, Merlin,” he whispered. “Harry, look.”

Harry leaned over his shoulder, only to find himself staring into the tiny perfect face on an infant, surrounded by soft blue fleece. Draco had found a note inside the outer blanket and he opened it.

“Dear Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy,” he read. “This is Benji. His father is a wizard, as was his father, and his grandfather. He comes from on old, pure-blood line, but they could not accept his marriage to a muggle-born. I am ill , and afraid they will not accept him or care for him when I am dead. Please take my son, I beg of you. I know he could be happy with you and I’m afraid taking him to his father dooms him to a miserable life. Please. I only want him to be happy.”

They looked at each other as the baby began to fidget in his heavy wrappings. Draco stripped it down to the blue fleece blanket before scooping the baby up in his arms. “What do we do?”

Harry looked into the tiny face. “I have no earthly idea.”

The baby opened his eyes and looked up into Draco’s face with all the trust in the world.

“Oh, he’s beautiful,” Draco breathed. And he was, Harry had to agree. A beautiful tiny person who had been left on his doorstep like the daily newspaper or the Muggle post. He couldn’t seem to stop staring at the baby’s face, saw the avid little eyes, the wisps of black hair escaping the cocoon wrapping he was in.

Both of their kids had black hair; this baby resembled Jamie and Cissa when they’d been newborns so much that Harry felt a tug just under his heart. Draco touched the porcelain skin with tender fingers and the sight was almost painful for Harry to watch. He’d wanted another child so much, but they’d had to be smart. The healer told them it would kill Draco to go through another pregnancy, and Harry wasn’t able to even consider it.

Almost as if waking from a trance, Draco straightened and turned to Harry. “What do we do now?”

Harry gave him a slightly sad smile. “You know what we do.”

They finished the sentence together. “We call Hermione.”

oooOOOooo

 

“Well, he doesn’t have a registered magical signature, so he wasn’t born at St. Mungo’s.”

Hermione sleeved her wand after running the short diagnostic over the baby as he rested in Draco’s arms. He was sitting in a rocking chair in their living room, the one he’d always rocked their own children in.

“Not for anything, Harry,” Ron said from where he sat on the arm of their sofa, “but if I didn’t know you were as gay as a pride parade, I’d have thought he was yours.”

Harry gave him a dry look. “How long have you been sitting on that one?”

Ron gave him an unrepentant grin. “So long.”

“It’s good.” Harry gave him a grudging shrug.

“I know, right?”

Hermione sighed explosively. “I keep thinking the two of you will grow up at some point.”

“Keep hoping, Granger,” Draco drawled good-naturedly. “But perhaps we should return to the salient point?” He looked down at the baby, who was happily drinking a bottle of warm milk. Harry thought it said a million things that they still had a bottle in the house and Narcissa was sixteen.

“Well, we’ll take him to Colin’s, of course,” she answered. “Ninety percent of the children who end up there have no family history. The doctors can do a complete medical report. He can’t be very old.”

“Maybe a month,” Draco provided. “His eyes are tracking but he isn’t holding his head up yet.”

Hermione leaned over Draco’s shoulder, smiling when the baby’s eyes tracked to her. “He is beautiful.”

Draco murmured a soft agreement, touching his little fist. It opened and he curled his fingers around Draco’s, gripping hard enough that his knuckles whitened. “He certainly is.” His sigh was so soft Harry doubted Ron or Hermione heard it, but he did. “And we should probably take him to Colin’s before he gets attached here.”

“Draco – I mean, would you and Harry – his mother did ask.” Hermione stopped when Draco gave her a sad, resigned look.

“I can’t imagine anything I’d love more,” he murmured. “But I can’t give up my work. I’ve got too many people counting on me now, and a potions laboratory is no place for an infant. And Merlin knows the Ministry isn’t.”

“No,” Harry said softly. “The Ministry certainly isn’t.”

But Draco’s sad, resigned expression as they left the baby with the matron in the infant ward at Colin’s House haunted him.

oooOOOooo

 

Harry left the Ministry one evening a month and a half later, a headache pounding from temple to temple behind his eyes. The Wizengamot had been debating a new bill for funding for squib educational subsidies, and had been stalled on an utterly STUPID point of order for most of the afternoon. The witch seated next to him had even leaned over at one point and whispered, “if you’d care to subtly take Umbridge out, I’d lie through my teeth to get you off.” Harry had given her a weak smile even as he watched Umbridge, still a nightmarish image with that curl on her forehead, a cat pin on the front of her purple robes. The only up side was that when they finally did vote, the progressive party, of which he was just one spokesman, carried the day. Still, the whole process was exhausting and made him feel like he needed a shower.

He walked out into a bustling Diagon Alley, busy with shoppers and vendors, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dress trousers and his mood sour as he headed for St. Mungo’s. There was no point in going home; Draco wasn’t there and Harry didn’t feel like eating dinner alone again. He knew if Draco wasn’t in his lab at the hospital, then he would be next door in the nursery at Colin’s House, visiting with Benji. From the beginning, each of his days ended there, holding the baby boy. Harry had eaten a cup of soup and toast for dinner in front of the telly, alone, almost every night for a week.

Harry tried not to be envious; the little guy needed someone to love him, after all. And Harry was a grownup who knew Draco loved him; being jealous of a three month old was silly. And yet, in his heart of hearts, he was. Nothing he did put the look of pure relaxation and utter joy on Draco’s face like walking little with Benji on his shoulder did. Well, except maybe a good shag. Harry still had the advantage there. But there hadn’t been any sex for a while, either. The baby was fussy right now, new teeth making his gums swell, and Draco was the one dosing him with mild pain potions. He took responsibility for delivering all of the children’s medications in pre-sorted dosages, per their healers instructions, and Benji wasn’t the only one receiving treatment.

“He’s a little kid,” Harry mused, irritated with himself. “And even though you’ve had a bad day, you’re being an arse.” He sighed aloud, determined to have himself under control by the time he reached Draco’s lab.

But he wasn’t there, of course, and despite his best intentions his mood soured when his lab assistant, a bright eyed intern named Mariska, told him Draco had already walked next door to the orphanage. He stalked through the busy hallways, doing his level best not to make eye contact with anyone because he didn’t feel like having to be nice. He just wanted to pick up his husband and go to dinner. Was that too much to ask? A quiet dinner, a bottle of wine, and maybe some cuddle time in front of the telly; that was all he wanted. Was that so much?

He could hear infants wailing before he got to the nursery door. When he opened it and peaked in, he saw one careworn matron holding one baby in her arms and leaning over another layette, cooing to another. Harry entered, and she looked up at him with a weary smile.

“The troops planning a revolt, Martha?”

She pushed at some flyaway gray hair. “We’ve two teething now, Mr. Potter,” she answered. “And I’m alone here because Maggie is out with dragon pox.” Harry grimaced. “I don’t suppose your husband is right behind you? He’s late with their pain potions.”

Harry frowned. “I was just at the lab, and they said he was headed here.”

She waved her hand. “He must have got held up on one of the other floors. Poor man half runs himself to death as it is.”

Feeling like a bit of a monumental jerk even though his temper tantrum had been internal, he walked to her. “Can I help?” He looked into the layette and saw the little black haired infant who had stolen his husband’s heart, wailing his own little heart out. His mouth was open, and Harry could see his red, swollen gums. “Oh, buddy,” he murmured, wincing, reaching to pick the baby up before the matron could answer. “Come here, little man.” He tucked the baby into his arm even though he was holding his body rigid, chewing on the fist he managed to cram into his mouth. “Oh, now don’t chew on that.” He pulled the little spit soaked hand away, and the baby screamed. “Nice lungs there, shorty.” He turned to Martha. “Any ice nearby, Martha?”

“There’s some in the refrigerator in the kitchen, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded, walking into the small breakroom that was attached to the nursery. When he opened the freezer, he found not only ice but several teething rings. “Ah ha, here we go.” He removed a green one that had a hole in the center for his finger and a side piece for the baby to suck on. “Let’s see if this helps.”

Harry, who had dealt with teething babies before, pulled Benji’s red, sloppy fingers out of his mouth, again to his vocal displeasure. But when he rubbed the icy plastic against the swollen gums his eyes opened wide and he drew in a shuddering breath.

“Yeah, see?” Harry murmured. “This isn’t my first time round the block. Feels good, huh?” He pressed the teething ring to the swollen gums again and Benji’s full lips closed over it and he began to suck in between sniffles through a very stuffy little button nose. “Aww, sweetheart.” He moved the dark bangs aside, touched a gentle fingertip to the spikey, wet lashes when Benji closed his smoky blue eyes. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

As the little boys snuffling breathing seemed to ease, Harry walked back across the hall. Martha had managed to quiet the other baby and was sitting in one of a pair of rocking chairs, slowly pushing the chair to and fro with a toe on the floor.

“Asleep?” Harry mouthed. She nodded.

“Finally,” she whispered. “Wore herself out, poor thing.” She gestured toward Benji with her head, and Harry shook his in response.

“Not yet.” He walked over and sat gingerly in the other chair, but Benji’s eyes remained closed and his little face, which had been bright red when Harry picked him up, was slowly fading to a soft pink. Harry found himself falling into rhythm with the other chair, slowly rocking, enjoying the sweet weight in his arms. It was soothing, and he realized that his sour mood had completely evaporated. The realization gave him pause.

The door opened almost silently and Harry looked up to see his husband enter the ward. He slowed when he saw Harry sitting in one of the rockers.

“New intern, Martha?” he whispered and she smiled at him.

“More of an old pro, I’d say.”

Draco held up a small bag. “This should get you through the night.” He opened the top and took out two small pink vials, handing one to her. When he turned to Harry, he angled his head slightly in question. He handed over the vial, and when their fingers brushed Harry grasped Draco’s hand. Draco looked into his eyes, and Harry could see the question in his gaze.

“I missed you,” Harry said softly. Draco stared, and after a few moments his eyes softened. He nodded faintly.

“It’s been a hellish week. Dragon pox both at the hospital and here, and I’ve been working on the treatment overtime. I’m sorry. I should have told you but you were asleep when I got home most nights and I didn’t want to wake you…”

“I understand,” Harry murmured, finding he did. He took the small vial, breaking off the tip and inserting it into the corner of Benji’s pink lips. The baby swallowed as he sucked and when the vial was empty it vanished without a sound. Almost instantly any remaining tension in his body flowed away. His rosy lips went slack and his breathing evened out in sleep. “Well done, Potion Master,” Harry murmured with a smile. He rose carefully, walking over and returning the baby to the layette. When he pulled the soft blue blanket up and tucked it in around his waist, he smoothed his fingers over the little chest that was rising and falling in gentle slumber.

Martha came to his side, laying her charge in another small bed. “Perhaps you needn’t come in quite as early tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy.”

“No, I’ll be here to check on them,” Draco said, handing her the bag with the remaining pain potion. “I need to know how long the dose lasts so I can adjust it if necessary.” He looked down, his hand reaching out almost as if against his will and he straightened Benji’s blanket, touched his hair. Harry watched the tenderness in his touch with nostalgia. He’d seen his husband touch their children in the same way a thousand times, but wondered if he’d ever felt it the way he did then. When Draco’s hand dropped to his side, Harry took it and linked their fingers.

“Can I buy you dinner?” He asked. “A glass of wine or two?”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Martha said with a smile. “Merlin knows you’ve earned it.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched but Harry saw the warming in his eyes. He squeezed his hand.

“I could eat,” Draco said. “Where did you have in mind?”

“Anywhere you want to go.”

One of Draco’s mobile, fair brows arched. “That could be expensive, Potter.”

“You’re worth it -- Malfoy.”

Draco’s smile finally won out, and he squeezed Harry’s hand.

oooOOOooo

 

Harry was sitting in his office the next day, trying to concentrate on the research his assistant had given him but finding his eyes lifting toward the charmed window across from him. He knew it was a spell that showed a clear, sunny day regardless of the actual weather outside, but the fluffy white clouds that sailed slowly through the bright blue sky were the perfect thing to stare at as his mind drifted.

When they left the orphanage the night before, Draco admitted to Harry he was so tired that what he really wanted was to pick up some take out and a bottle of wine, and enjoy both in front of their fireplace. Eager to please Draco, they’d picked up some tika marsala and a bottle of Bordeaux. After they’d eaten, Harry slipped off Draco’s shoes and gave him a foot rub which elicited the sorts of sounds he usually only heard in the bedroom. Draco was dozing off before he lay down in their bed. Harry, on the other hand, was awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. He’d come to a conclusion that he thought was the answer, but there were others to consult and consider. Abruptly he knew where he had to start.

Taking his wand from the corner of his desk he sent of his Patronus , then stood up, taking off his purple Wizengamot robe and slipping into his black leather jacket.

“I’ll be back later,” he told his assistant, Mangus , as he passed through the outer office. The young man’s eyes widened.

“But – you’ve the Minister at four-thirty.”

“Reschedule Kingsley for tomorrow, will you please? And clear my calendar for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, sir,” Mangus said faintly, his eyes confused as he watched Harry leave. That was all right, Harry thought. He wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing himself.

The building that housed the Fred Weasley Institute was a short apparition point away, and when he opened his eyes after the gut twisting lurch, he saw Jamie pacing in front of the brick facade. When he saw his father he jogged over, out of breath, his eyes wide.

“What is it, Pop? Why aren’t you at work? Is Dad okay?”

“Yes, son, your dad’s fine.” He embraced Jamie, faintly surprised every time he did so that his son was taller than he was by a couple of inches. He held him back at arms-length, looking into his gray eyes. “Gods, you’ve turned into a good looking man.”

“Runs in the family, or so Dad tells me,” Jamie quipped. Harry laughed.

“I’m sure he does. What do you have this afternoon?”

Jamie shrugged. “Your Patronus pulled me out of a meeting about trying to shake more money from the Ministry for scholarships for needy students headed to Uni.”

“Sounds frustrating.”

“Is. Having a white stag trot through the room livened things up. Thanks for rescuing me. Do you plan to tell me what’s going on?”

Harry slung his arm around his son’s shoulders, which he managed even though it was something of a reach. “I was hoping I could convince you to go on a field trip with me?”

Jamie shrugged. “Where’re we going?”

“How do you feel about Scotland?”

Jamie grinned. “On the whole, or someplace in particular?”

“Definitely someplace in particular.” Harry returned his smile, and sent off another Patronus. He then held out his arm to his son. “Trust me?”

The unwavering regard he received in return was good for Harry’s soul. “Absolutely, Pops. But you’re going to have to explain this to Aunt Hermione, you know.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I do.”

Jamie started to take his arm but Harry put it around his son’s slender waist instead, pulling him in firmly against his side. He concentrated on their destination and with a pop, they disappeared.

oooOOOooo

 

When they arrived outside of the gates to Hogwarts, Jamie looked over at him in surprise.

“Family meeting,” Harry explained.

“Without Dad?” Jamie’s brow furrowed.

“Oh, we’ll be bringing him in soon enough. Trust me.”

After trudging to the castle they found Headmaster Longbottom waiting for them in the entry hall. He held out his hand with a wide smile as Harry approached.

“Harry! Merlin, it’s been an age. How are you?”

Harry grabbed his hand, but then pulled him into a hug, patting his solid back. Of all of them, Neville was the one most changed for the better by the war. He was a man of confidence now and it showed in everything from his elaborate black robes, actually sort of reminiscent of Snape, to the way her stood, head up, shoulders back.

“I’m good, Nev,” Harry said. “How’s Ginny?”

“She’s wonderful,” Neville said, his eyes shining the way they always did when he talked about his wife. “I imagine she has her first year flying students trying to mount a broom about now.”

Harry shuddered. “Luna will be busy in the hospital wing this afternoon.”

Neville laughed. “Probably. If any of them fly for the first time like their headmaster, at any rate.” Harry grinned. He’d never forget that day. Neville turned to Jamie. “Good heavens, James, you’ve gotten taller.”

“A bit,” James agreed, shaking his old Herbology teacher's hand.

“I sent to the Care of Magical Creatures class for Cissa to be sent down,” Neville said. “I hope everything is all right? Draco is well?”

“Everything is fine,” Harry assured him. “And Draco is very well, aside from working himself half to death.”

“His potions have been a real boon to us. So much more convenient than sending to France.”

“He loves to do it. They’ve just had a break out of Dragon Pox at the hospital and at Colin’s House, so he’s trying to stay on top of that.”

Neville grimaced just as they heard the sound of quick footsteps on stone. Sailing down the stairs, black curls streaming behind her, cheeks pink and eyes bright, was Narcissa. Her red lined robes flowed around her slender form as she ran across the hall.

“Papa?” she said breathlessly, reaching out with her hands for her father. “Jamie? What’s wrong? Where’s Daddy?” Her eyes darted between them anxiously.

“Your dad is fine, Cissa. Breathe, honey. I’m just here to talk to you about something.”

“What?”

Harry turned to Neville. “Is it all right if I take my children into Hogsmeade for a bite, Nev?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Harry took Cissa’s hand and they turned toward the doors.

“Harry?” Neville called and Harry turned back. “I hope to see you again soon.”

Harry gave him a wry smile. “I think that’s probably likely, Nev.”

oooOOOooo

 

By the time Harry was back in Diagon Alley, what he’d thought initially was a wild hare was now a firm plan, blessed by his children and now only needing the approval of his husband. More nervous than he’d thought he’d be about broaching it, he walked into Colin’s House, smiling at the receptionist in passing and making his way right to the nursery. He opened the door to a quiet room, and found the two matrons busy, Maggie changing the little girl's nappy and Martha sitting in a rocker, feeding Benji a bottle. He sent Maggie a smile but crossed to Martha.

“Potions working, then?” he asked. Martha gave him a relieved smile.

“Oh, they’ve just been a wonder,” she answered. “Thank goodness. And the dragon pox seems to be more under control too, so I imagine you’ll be getting your husband back soon.”

“I’ll be glad to have him,” Harry said. He gestured to the baby. “May I take over there for you?”

Martha looked surprised, but pleased. “Of course.” She stood and transferred both baby and bottle into Harry’s arms. The little boy looked up at him, going back to his bottle after a brief pause. Harry laughed.

“He's got his priorities sorted.”

Martha laughed. “Indeed he does. At the rate he’s going we’ll be needing more new onsies again.”

“That can be managed.” Harry sat in the rocking chair, returning the babies steady gaze. “Hello there, little man. Do you like what you’re seeing as much as I do?” The baby paused his enthusiastic sucking, giving Harry a milky smile before returning to his bottle. “Like I said; you know how to prioritize.”

“If you’re going to be here for few, Mr. Potter, I’d like to toss a load of laundry into the dryer – “

“That’s fine, Martha. Benji and I will be just fine.”

She walked away, and Harry leaned back in the chair, beginning the soothing rocking. He touched the back of Benji’s hand and his tiny fingers flexed then curled around Harry’s when he offered it, and his heart swelled at the surprisingly strong grip. “I like you, too,” he murmured. “And I’d like to spend a lot more time with you. I hope that’s okay, little man.”

“You’re planning on moving in here, then?” Draco asked. Harry looked up, startled. He hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Why would I do that?” Harry asked, smiling quizzically.

“Well, I heard you telling Benji that you’d like to spend more time with him.” He lowered himself into the other rocker with a soft sigh, then linked his hands over his flat stomach. “I can’t imagine how you could, short of leaving the Wizengamot.”

Benji apparently decided he was done with his bottle, and Harry leaned over and set it on the floor, then shifted the little body up onto his shoulder, patting him gently on the back. “Well, about that – “

Draco watched him handle the boy, smiling faintly. “About what?”

“My place in the Wizengamot.” Harry paused. “You know, when I first ran for that seat, I did it primarily to make sure that what happened to you when Jamie was being born didn’t happen to anyone else.”

Draco nodded. Harry knew he remembered vividly. Destroying the waiting room at St. Mungo’s with his wild magic had assured that even though Draco was a pureblood and there was a law against his receiving treatment, Jamie had been delivered safely. Theodore Nott’s son hadn’t been so lucky, and that had set Harry on the path of elected office.

“Well, we repealed that law, passed another making sure it wouldn’t happen to anyone else. And another, making it a punishable offense to discriminate against purebloods in housing, and employment.”

“I know all of this, Harry. I was there.”

“You were there.” His patting achieved its designed purpose, and the baby let out a loud burp. Harry and Draco laughed.

“Charming manners,” Draco said drolly.

“Hey, it was manly.” Harry lay the baby in the vee of his legs, grabbing his tiny hands to lean over him. “That’s what it was too, wasn’t it, Ben? A very manly burp.” The baby smiled his gummy smile, and Harry saw a glint of white on his gum. “Ah ha, is that a tooth I see?” He lifted the baby and turned him to Draco. “Look, Draco. We have a tooth!”

Draco put his hands under Benji’s arms, taking him and dutifully examining his mouth when he gave a large, gummy smile on seeing who now held him.

“A very manly tooth,” Draco said solemnly, holding the baby close to rub noses with him. Benji reached out as babies do, unable to focus the grip but happy when he grabbed Draco’s lip. Draco pulled away, and Benji let out a gurgling, delighted sound.

“He likes you,” Harry observed.

“He likes everyone right now,” Draco countered. “The pain meds make him high.”

Harry laughed. “You wouldn’t put enough of the narcotic element in it to make a baby high.”

“Just high enough to be happy.” Draco grabbed a tiny, flailing fist and kissed the back of it. “Isn’t that right?” Benji drooled down his front, and Draco dabbed at it with his bib. “We like happy boys around here.”

He was such a natural, Harry thought. He always had been. He could only hope that he had it in him, too, because he’d never been the stay at home dad.

“So, do you plan to finish telling me what you’re doing here in the middle of the afternoon when you should be meeting with our illustrious Minister?”

Harry watched as Draco gently disentangled Benji’s hand when he managed to grip strands of his white blond hair. He kissed the hand as he lowered it. “You wish we could keep him, don’t you?” Harry asked.

Draco went very still, wide eyes lifting to Harry’s face. After a moment he looked away, his brow furrowed.

“We talked about this,” Draco said shortly. “I can’t give up my work right now; it’s too important to too many people.”

“Agreed.” Harry’s voice was resolute, and Draco looked back at him.

“Then why would you even bring this up? If I can’t take care of a baby, it’s a bit cruel to ask me if I want him when you know – “

Harry leaned closer, onto the edge of the seat. “I know that what you’re doing is too important for you to stop. I also know,” he paused, took a deep breath, “that what I’m doing right now is primarily arguing with a bunch of smug arseholes, trying to get them to be better people than they are. I’m also fighting my every inclination to turn Delores Umbridge into a particularly ugly mouse so I can feed her to her own damned cats!”

Draco let out a startled giggle, then covered it with his hand. He studied Harry. “What are you proposing, Harry? Please, spell it out for me.”

“I’m proposing that I resign my position in the Wizengamot in order to stay at home and be a full time dad, just as you were to our first two children.”

Draco stared at him, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. He didn’t speak for several moments, and Harry’s heart sank.

“You don’t think I can do it.”

Draco frowned. “I think you can do anything you put your mind to. You managed to land me pregnant twice with that fierce will of yours, Potter. I’d never underestimate you.”

“You helped with that as I recall,” Harry said wryly.

“So I did.” He looked into Benji’s happy little face, then looked up at Harry again, almost as if he were afraid to hope. “Are you really suggesting that we adopt him, and you stay home with him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

Draco’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “What about your work?” he finally managed. “The causes you fight for?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m not accomplishing anything fighting with Umbridge. But if I go around her…” He let his voice trail off.

“Around her, how?”

“Hermione’s been trying to hire me for years to be a spokesman for her company, for their causes. Many of which coincide with what I’ve been trying to do through the Wizengamot. If I did speaking engagements for her, we might be able to get the funding privately. Then we wouldn’t need the Ministry’s money.”

“But… you hate doing speaking engagements.”

Harry shrugged again. “It would be a way for me to still try to get things done for charities, without beating my head against the wall every day fighting with people who don’t care about anyone but themselves.” He studied Draco’s face, at the hope his husband was fighting not to feel. “Plus, it would have the added benefit of only being a couple of times a month, and in the evening. That way, I could…” he gestured to Benji, “take care of him. I could also support you the way you supported me.”

Draco swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing on his long neck. “And how was that?”

Harry reached out, swamped in tenderness, to caress his jaw. “Utterly unselfishly. Don’t you think it’s your turn?”

“My turn to…”

“Fight the dragons, change the world, heal the sick. And while you’re tilting at windmills,” Draco smiled faintly, “I’ll be keeping the home fires burning. Making the porridge, changing the nappies, cleaning the house. Then you can come home to happy, giggly bath times like I did. You can be the hero, Draco. It’s so far beyond being your turn.”

“But, the kids…”

“Approve. I already talked to them.”

Draco blinked at that, caught off guard. He looked down at Benji again, his whole being softening. “And we could have another baby that way.”

Harry nodded, his throat thickening. “We could.”

He looked up and caught and held Harry’s eyes. “And you’re really willing to do that?” he asked in wonder.

“Oh, this is completely selfish,” Harry assured him. “I missed so much with the other kids. I want this.” He put his hand on Benji’s back. “I want to raise him with you.”

Draco bit his lower lip. “We’d have to apply to adopt him.”

Harry smiled, feeling a rush of joy replacing his initial nerves. “We know people on the board. I think we’d be okay.”

Draco stared at him again, eyes so wide there was a ring of white all around the gray iris. He hung back for an almost agonizing moment, then he made a sound of muffled delight and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him toward him. Harry slipped off the seat of the rocker and landed on his knees on the floor in front of Draco’s chair with a wince. Draco didn’t notice; he threw his arm around Harry’s neck and squeezed him tight, whispering against his ear.

“I love you so much.”

Harry smiled, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. “I love you, too.”

Tiny fingers curled in Harry’s hair and he felt drool on his cheek, and he smiled. It was perfect, he thought. A sloppy benediction for a new venture.

And the perfect way for them to begin again.


End file.
